


Short and Sweet

by DinosaurGummies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28048302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurGummies/pseuds/DinosaurGummies
Summary: Destiel drabbles (or double/triple drabbles as the case may be, really probably going to be any short scenes or ficlets under 1k)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. An Angel and a Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas comes back from the dead at full angelic strength and sweeps Dean off his feet... literally.

Dean’s really focused on not giggling. He’s never been with someone who could just… pick him up and hold him-- carry him, even, as Cas seems determined to do-- and combined with all the heavy emotions and the sudden sharp relief, he’s a little giddy.

“Wait, you’re gonna carry me up the stairs?”

“Why not?” Cas cocks his head to the side. 

“I mean, that’s… easy for you?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s something fond in the line of his smile. “Dean, I could carry your car up a flight of stairs, provided there was enough room to maneuver it.”

“I would love to see that, actually.” Sam says, stepping into Dean’s line of sight and reminding him that he’s actually still there. “He’d be way more worried about the car than about you dropping him down a flight of stairs.”

“I will not drop your brother.” Cas says to Sam, before turning back to Dean, adoration frigging shining in his eyes. “He is far too precious to me.”

“I’m not sure if you guys are disgusting or adorable.”

“Wait, so like…” Dean’s mind whirs, and a few mental pictures keep coming up for him. “You could just hold me up? Like, if I had my legs around your waist, and say maybe you had me braced against a wall or--”

“ _OKAY_.” Sam reaches over and smacks him gently upside the head. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous because your girlfriend can’t carry you.”

“I am really not.”

“Sam, I want you to crank the volume on your phone and blast ‘Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong’ while Cas carries me. I’m having a moment.”

“Only if you promise not to allude to anything you want to do or have done to you up against the wall, I don’t need that thought in my head.” He says, but he gets out his phone and searches for the song anyway.


	2. Mistletoe

“Watch out, Cas.” Dean teases, pausing and looking him over, the picture he makes standing in the doorway. Like he really is this little awkward nerdy guy, and not a powerful and awe-inspiring angel of the lord. “Hang out under the mistletoe like that and you know what might happen…”

Cas just tilts his head to one side, like he doesn’t know what might happen at all.

“I doubt this plant is going to harm me.” He says at last.

“No-- it… It’s not-- This is just a weird human thing, if you stand under the mistletoe then people have to kiss you. It’s a rule. Well, only at Christmas.”

Cas blinks once. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’re required to kiss me, because I am underneath a plant?”

“No, not-- Well… yeah. I mean, it’s more of a ‘tradition’ than a ‘rule’, but...”

“Very well.” He nods. “If this appeases tradition.”

Dean’s palms are sweating. How long have his palms been sweating? But he’d explained it so that Cas is expecting to be kissed now, and hell, it may be his only chance. One nice little kiss between friends and then he can go back to pretending he doesn’t have dreams about the angel.

Cas’ lips are dry and soft beneath his own, and Dean has to rein in the impulse to dive right in. No tongue action in a mistletoe kiss with your best friend, that’s probably a rule somewhere. And Dean’s been party to plenty of good kisses, but not one that’s ever made him feel the way he feels when Cas kisses back, light and chaste and still somehow intimate. He kisses like he’s kissing something a lot deeper than just Dean’s lips, he kisses like he’s kissing his soul.

No tongue action, but like… it’s _something_.

“Thank you. For explaining mistletoe to me.” Cas murmurs, his lips still so close, because he still doesn’t know what personal space is, and Dean’s never been gladder or more ready to jump out of his skin. “It was… illuminating.”

Sam walks in through the other doorway and Cas flits off, leaving Dean standing there, aware that his brother is staring. Which is absolutely unfair, because Dean’s not the one who was hanging frigging mistletoe in the bunker.

“Sorry, do I need to knock?” Sam asks, fighting a losing battle against an amused grin.

“Shut up. Why do we even have this stuff?”

“Don’t look at me. Cas is the one who put it up.”

“... Son of a bitch.”


	3. Bliss

“Did you ever think life could be like this? Happy?” Dean asks, from where he’s cuddled down against Cas’ shoulder.

Their fingers are twined together, loose and comfortable, sock feet on the coffee table, well in each other’s space. Dean’s head is a comfortable weight, his body warm beneath the afghan slung across both their laps, his stomach full under Cas’ other hand. The volume on the television is turned down low, a movie Dean’s seen a dozen times or more, and Cas’ hearing is good enough… 

“I didn’t know anything about life.” He murmurs, lips against Dean’s hairline. “Or happiness. Until you.”

“Always thought… you know, you look at marriages. Other people’s marriages. So many of ‘em seem so miserable. You wonder why people even do it… like they hardly seem to like each other. Spent a long time thinking if that’s what that life was, I didn’t want it. But I wanted it.”

“Mm. Is this your way of saying you’re lucky to have me?”

“Oh, way luckier than I deserve.” He brings their hands up to his lips. Doesn’t really kiss Cas’ knuckles, just holds them there a moment. “I’m saying I like you. I’m saying… you sit with me on the couch after we pig out on my favorite foods, which are _our_ favorite foods, and we watch TV and… I don’t know, and it’s _good_. It’s good even when nothing _happens_. I always thought stuff had to happen, to be good. Sex or fun or… like, doing stuff. But my favorite stuff to do is just…”

“Just?” Cas smiles and squeezes his hand.

“Staying home with you. With or without sex.”

“We’re having sex, though.” He nuzzles into Dean. “It’s our anniversary.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you stuffed me.” Dean groans, but Cas knows it’s not a no. He knows how much Dean likes it this way, sated and sleepy blowjobs after an evening of slow and easy foreplay. 

And it’s all foreplay. Sharing a meal, cuddling on the couch, the footsie and the lazy bellyrub and the shared blanket and the old movies, every moment of it is just drawing out the anticipation and sharing in the closeness, before the moment when they look at each other and decide it’s _now_.

It’s one of the nice things, a year in-- there are still nights of relentless passion, throwing and dragging each other into bed or just against a convenient flat surface, there are still handcuffs and panties and visible hickies proudly left, but there are also these nights. Quiet, cozy… comfortable, as if their year had been a decade. 

Then again, it took them a decade to get here.

And now that they are here, well… nothing could be better.


End file.
